


There's a blizzard in my heart (come keep me warm)

by iCeDreams



Series: Bunker Files [Castiel] [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Related, Cas POV, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 09, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iCeDreams/pseuds/iCeDreams
Summary: Without his grace and human, Castiel learns to deal with human needs.And it's just so damned cold.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Bunker Files [Castiel] [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072412
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112
Collections: Promptus Exchangarama





	There's a blizzard in my heart (come keep me warm)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chamaenerion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamaenerion/gifts).



> Despite being filed under a series, this is very much a standalone fic. The series is just a collection of my fics where Castiel is written in the bunker. One of my favorite Castiel settings which we barely saw in canon.
> 
> I really wanted to write in Jack here, but the only time Cas was completely human was pre-Jack. By the time I realized I could have just fudged and AU'd it, it was written and here we are XD. 
> 
> Set in the liminal time where Castiel was without grace S9-ish (Ignoring the fact that Dean sent him away... so yeah, completely Retconned still) or maybe S11-ish, when Castiel was **almost** human with stolen grace.
> 
> Merry Christmas to everyone! Thanks to Jo.cann in Discord for editing. Thank you also to the writer's room in Profound Bond who taught me all about... snow :D

Castiel wakes up shivering. No matter how modern the bunker’s heating mechanisms were back in the day, it still caused some grief now that Castiel was human—or well, human-adjacent, as Dean liked to call him.

Toes frozen, feet blocks of ice, Castiel tries to snuggle down into the bed and ignore his insistent bladder. But he knows the human imperative is going to win out. He shuffles around, searching for slippers that would protect his feet and wince as the floor leeches the remaining warmth before he goes and ‘does his business.’ 

Annoying human necessities over with, Castiel slides back into his bed. He grumbles when the few minutes he abandoned it already made it cold. He tosses and turns in an attempt to sleep. He even tucks his limbs underneath his body like a turtle. Finally, Castiel gives up and dons the slippers again.

He finds himself standing in front of Dean’s bed, the soft light of the bunker’s hallways filtering into the room before he closes the door, leaving them both in the dark. Castiel shifts on his feet from side to side, knowing that for one, Dean keeps a gun tucked under his pillow, and for another, he is an angry sleeper.

It takes Dean a few seconds to wake up to Castiel’s presence. He groans, blinking awake slowly, unlike when he’s in motels where he’s quick to rouse and draw. Dean takes one look at Castiel and lifts the comforter, scooting to the side to leave room for him in the bed. 

Without protesting, Castiel slides in the body-warm sheets and sighs. He snuggles close to Dean, nestling his nose in Dean’s neck and tucking his fingers underneath Dean’s shirt.

Dean lets out a perfunctory grumble of protest before pulling Castiel in and wrapping him with sleep-heavy arms. The lingering scent of leather from Baby and his jacket mixed in with a nip of rum that Dean had sipped before bed, and a unique note of Dean's envelopes Castiel. He squirms in place before throwing his leg around Dean and situates his foot between Dean’s thigh.

“This was nice before you placed that popsicle near my balls,” Dean complains, glaring at Castiel’s smug face. He does some awkward shuffling before he catches Castiel’s feet and rubs them between his palms.

Castiel groans in appreciation, toes curling in delight at the attention.

* * *

Blizzards are terrifying in their beauty. Castiel feels its anger in the whipping winds and the frosty cold even inside the well-insulated bunker. It is a primal force that Castiel reveled in when he had a full set of wings and couldn’t bother with the frost or such paltry things as a wind chill.

‘Oh, how much times have changed,’ Castiel thinks as he irritably rubs his fingers that are numb from the cold. He repeatedly scrunches his nose to remind himself that it’s still there and hasn’t fallen off in some ditch while he goes to check the ice build-up on the bunker’s roof.

Before he could climb his ladder, Dean surprises him with a heavy woolen scarf that smelled faintly of storage. Dean wraps it around Castiel’s neck securely before he grimaces and deposits a thick fleece cap on top of his head. “You’d think you’d know how to dress warmly by now.”

Castiel answers with a roll of his own eyes despite touching the fleece reverently. “My grace kept my temperature regulated before.”

“Well, now you need clothes to keep you warm, Cas,” Dean reminds him before pressing a set of heavy protective gloves on his hands. “Don’t want your fingers turning blue. You know you could just check the pipes inside and leave the outside—”

Castiel cuts Dean off before he could imply that the former angel couldn’t do the outside work. “If I plan on checking the pipes while you’re outside shoveling snow, I’ll let you know.” Just because he lost most of his grace does not mean he’s a ‘baby in a trench-coat.’ 

With an exasperated sigh, Dean nods and leaves him to the ladder. (But not before testing if Castiel propped it securely.) He then picks up his shovel and goes towards the driveway to clear the heavy snow that the magic-induced blizzard dropped overnight.

* * *

By the time that Castiel finds a position that warms him, Dean is already fully awake and tending to Castiel’s other cold body parts. Generating heat is apparently not as efficient as a human as it was for an angel—at least for Jimmy Novak. But Dean shows him exciting ways to do it.

Case in point, Dean’s curled around Castiel, their clothes discarded in a pile that Dean would definitely complain about in the morning. Chest to chest is the best way, and Castiel holds himself as tight to Dean as possible, tugging on Dean’s hair and finding all the places that his body has been kept warm.

Dean chokes on nothing, biting his lip in embarrassment, but grinds his rapidly filling cock to Castiel’s hard one. Castiel has never learned what humans call modesty, has never had the use for the word, especially since he’s never had a body he considered ‘his’ before. So he’s brazen in his want, slotting his and Dean’s erections together, rubbing at them for the delicious heat and sparks it gave off. 

Castiel closely watches as Dean tries to tuck away his head into Castiel’s neck and chest flushed red in both embarrassment and arousal while their hips roll at the friction as Castiel lazily rubs them.

“You’re a menace,” Dean says on an exhale, but he shifts his legs to allow Castiel easier access, riding Castiel’s thigh, which is trapped between his own bowed ones. His cock weeps eagerly in attention.

“You like it,” Castiel reminds him, the hand not busy with their cocks tugging Dean’s hair again so he could see Dean’s embarrassment properly. The way the redness of his self-consciousness highlights the freckles on his cheekbones and his bitten lips swollen incites such want in Castiel. Dean’s parted lips are so inviting, Castiel dips in for a taste, Dean moaning through the claiming.

He pulls his fingers free from Dean’s hair and trails them down through his back, slotting them between his ass cheeks and trapping their cocks together. 

* * *

Once Castiel is sure Dean will not constantly check on him, he carefully climbs the ladder, reaching the tallest parts of the bunker. On top, Castiel sees Sam busy with the broken tree limbs that the winds scattered around the property.

The bunker is an old structure, so the piles and the chimneys need to be inspected, especially since Kansas isn’t a deep snow country. But the Men of Letters had built the bunker after that enormous snowstorm of ‘49 when Gabriel and Balthazar tried to prank each other and took out half of Central America. They’d had to loosen the ice-encrusted snow with dynamites then. It had factored in the making of the building.

Thankfully, the Men of Letters thought about that, and they made the roof out of concrete, able to take most of the icy load with none of the dangerous ice dams that Castiel saw over the years in some sloped eaves of houses. They also spelled it to keep the elements off the cement. Castiel picks up the “roof rake” he’d brought along for the snow on the roof.

He loses himself with the job, and before Castiel knows it, the sun on the snow is blinding. Dean is stretching his back from the effort and an almost finished driveway to show for it. It takes Castiel a while to spot Sam, who is creeping along the drifts of snow. The tightly packed ball of ice between his hands quickly makes his purpose apparent.

Dean, whose situational awareness is usually raised high, is relaxed in the bunker. A few strains of his low whistling of Led Zeppelin even reached Cas on the roof. The snow is conducive to hearing the sounds from farther away. The first smack of snow against Dean’s face caught him unaware. 

“Hey!” Dean wipes his face with a gloved hand and glares at Sam, only to be cut off by two more rapid successions of snowballs catching him in the shoulder, and another one missing by Dean dropping and rolling on the ground.

What ensues is an epic snowball fight that Castiel watches from the rafters, his legs dangling over the walls. When the Winchesters tire from their game, they both plop down next to each other in the field of white, their breath clouding the air.

* * *

Dean is gasping, pushing back against the fingers slotted in his backside, lube already half used up, whining in protest. It’s a feeling that Castiel isn’t particularly fond of, but loves seeing in Dean, desperate and needy for what Castiel can give. 

When Dean shifts up the headboard to present his ass, Castiel growls and pulls him underneath the warmth of the comforter, slotting chest to back, spooning in the bed. “Cas!”

Castiel laughs, nipping at Dean’s neck before tapping against his ass, testing the give while Dean groans in impatience. Laying on their sides, with the blankets tossed over them and Dean around him, Castiel could almost believe he had his wings enveloping him again.

Slowly, Castiel nudges at Dean’s hole as he brings his knee up to his chest, his lips meeting Cas in a kiss. It wasn’t graceful by any means, but it was the sweet heat that Castiel had been inadvertently looking for the entire night, and here Dean was allowing Castiel that liberty. 

Castiel rolls his hips up, and they both groan. Dean presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes to surrender to the feeling. Instead, Castiel is cataloging it, not daring to miss a second of the gift Dean is giving him.

After a pause, Dean reaches back with one hand and clutches at Castiel’s neck while the other pumps his erection, a desperate deep purple filled to the brim, demanding Castiel’s attention. When he was an angel, this wouldn’t have overwhelmed him, Dean’s heat around him, Dean’s mouth against his own, Dean’s hands against his neck.

As an angel, Castiel had the patience to tease Dean for hours waiting for that moment. As a human, Castiel finally understands the merits of a quick and rough mating. But whether it was romance or a fucking, he’d always loved intimacy with Dean best.

* * *

Dean hollers from the ground and makes a series of motions towards Castiel, which he interprets for him to join the brothers. With a last look at the spelled roof and with the satisfaction of a job well done, Castiel scrabbles down to tower over them in the fluffy snow. 

“What are you doing?” Castiel asks in curiosity, watching the two of them waving their arms and legs, making an array of impressions in the snow that to Castiel looks like a failed swimming experiment.

Dean laughs, although Castiel didn’t find anything funny about it, Sam sits up while dusting the powder that clung to his hair. “We’re making snow angels, Cas.”

Castiel inspects the indentations they made critically. “That looks nothing like a celestial wavelength of intent.” He informs them primly and then nosedives towards the nearest snowbank. The rush of cold immediately numbs his entire face, and Castiel admits that doing it hadn’t been one of his more well-thought-out plans.

Castiel maneuvers to a sitting position to evaluate his work before he turns to look at both Dean and Sam. Sam, covering guffaws, and Dean, whose face is a mix of annoyed and worried. It’s something that Castiel notices a lot of recently. “See, this is a legitimate snow angel,” Castiel announces proudly, no matter if he has no grace to back up the claim.

“You don’t do it with a face full of snow, Cas!” Dean reprimands as he bites off his glove, blows into his hands, and then rubs the warmth back into Castiel’s snow-kissed cheeks.

Now that Dean has chastised him for it, the heat was a welcome addition, and he basks in it. “Some religions believe that rolling in the snow purges evil urges. Although some old texts also say that creating indentations in the snow summons the devil. Modern religion has some very contradictory characteristics.”

Sam clears his throat, and Dean reluctantly backs away from Castiel, patting his face once, deeming him warm enough. “You can lodge your complaint to Santa,” Dean mutters as he stands up.

* * *

Castiel leverages Dean’s leg, so he’s well open, but sinks into him at a slow and steady pace, murmuring romance in all the languages that Den doesn’t know. Castiel whispers love with his words and with his body, and Dean strains for his release, finally crying out loud when he comes.

Panting, Dean straightens out as he catches his breath while Castiel fishes for their discarded clothes and wipes the mess they both made.

“You’re making me sleep in the wet spot again?” Dean grumbles.

“I’m the one doing the laundry,” Castiel says, but shifts so they were both well and away from the wet spot and warm from the heat and slick of sex, falling blissfully asleep. 

Come the morning, the scent of coffee rouses Castiel from his comforter fort. The indentation from Dean is still warm, but the bedside table has another pair of mittens, and a deep blue woolen scarf, new from the tags attached to it, unlike the scrounged up ones he used when they were doing maintenance work.

Castiel debates not getting up from the cocoon, burrowing into the blankets and protesting winter. When an hour has passed, and he still hasn’t shown up for breakfast, Dean investigates and presses kisses on his neck to entice him.

“The bears have it right.” Castiel grumbles, glaring over the comforters to see Dean sitting on the edge of the bed with a hot mug of cocoa held out for Castiel and another one filled with coffee that he was sipping slowly. “I’m going to hibernate until spring.”

“You like sex too much to hibernate until spring.” Dean points out as he places the mug on Castiel’s outstretched hands. He puts down his drink and then wraps Castiel up in a thick woolen blanket.

“Good point,” Castiel looks up from the cocoa briefly before putting it down beside Dean’s coffee. He pulls Dean towards him for a good morning kiss. “Come back to bed. It’s not like you have an 8-to-5 job.”

“You, mister, are a bad influence,” Dean berates him but follows willingly, discarding his shoes and slinging an arm over Castiel. “Five more minutes. The bacon isn’t going to stay crispy.”

“I could work with that,” Castiel responds, burrowing deeper into Dean’s warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it. I was experimenting a little with the style going back and forth with the day... uh and I hoped it worked? Kinda?
> 
> Prompt 2: Canon divergent: Human!Cas being really grumpy about the cold weather.
> 
> It ended up being more smut than Cas grump. *hides and flees*
> 
>  **So this became slightly prophetic** :  
> [Jensen](https://www.instagram.com/p/CLfae9BgvXc/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link), [Danneel](https://www.instagram.com/p/CLdfg4ig9sH/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link), and [Gen](https://www.instagram.com/p/CLac2GZB0ZH/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) have posted about the winter storm that hit Texas this February 2021.
> 
> If you're in a position to help, Danneel and Jensen posted charities where they usually donate.


End file.
